


Sympathy (With Scotch)

by editingatwork



Series: Top Shelf [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: AU, Hickeys, Implied homophobia, M/M, Marking, hot CEO!Alexei, office drone!Kent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8892169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/editingatwork/pseuds/editingatwork
Summary: Kent makes a costly mistake at work. Alexei turns out to be good for more than just sex.





	

"I'm sorry." It's the only phrase Kent knows right now. That, and, "It won't happen again."

The big office is warmer than the open floor full of cubicles where Kent works. That's two floors down, where Kent desperately wishes he was now. This office has wall-to-wall windows and makes him feel like the whole world can see him. Kent's boss is standing in the corner, quietly, like he has been the whole time they've been here. It's not him that Kent's here to see.

Kent's boss's boss—currently sitting on the other side of the polished cherrywood desk—nods in response to Kent's apology and sits back in his chair. "We know you won't," he says, and Kent tries not to wince. Shit, the whole department knows, don't they? The man continues, "You've been an excellent employee with this company for five years now. This is an aberration. A regrettable one, given the financial loss, but we understand that mistakes happen. We have lives outside of work, and sometimes we let personal things follow us in the door, and distract us."

Kent's whole body goes hot, like he's been electrocuted. He feels the physical presence of his boss in the corner like a bear in the room. It takes every ounce of self-control not to look over his shoulder and see what kind of self-satisfied expression is on the man's face. Because ever since Kent came to work with a mouth-shaped bruise peeking out of his collar from his first hookup with Alexei, his boss’s disapproval has been thick in the air. And there’s no _reason_ for it. Excepting the morning after the wedding (when he was late and hungover) and the two other occasions when Alexei left him little reminders to wear to work, Kent has been on time, clean-shaven, and productive every single other day in the two months he's been screwing Alexei.

Nobody at the office knows who Kent's new "friend" is. Nobody at the office even explicitly knows he's gay. His boss has been cold to him ever since he came to work with that first hickey and giddy smile, and Kent hadn't thought much of it, but now he's made a costly mistake and is standing here listening to his department head accuse him of fucking up because he’s been too busy being _queer_.

He feels nauseous. He wants to leave. He thinks he might throw up.

"I understand," he says. Getting the words out feels like pulling teeth. "It won't happen again."

The man behind the desk smiles winningly, like he's just bested Kent at a game of golf. "I'm glad we can agree. You're very valuable to this company, Kent, and we'd like to keep you on board. Now," he says, checking his watch, "I think it's time we let you go for lunch. I don't know about you, but I'm starved." 

Kent returns the smile as best he can. "Me too, sir."

  
"In that case, thank you for coming up to discuss this. We appreciate it." He stands and holds out his hand.

Kent shakes his hand. He leaves the office feeling numb.  
—

Kent makes it through the rest of the day and leaves as early as he's allowed. It's not until he's home and halfway through his third beer that his phone chimes with a text from Alexei, and he remembers they'd agreed to meet up. Shit.

_You are still coming over?_

Kent puts his face in his hands. He's humiliated and miserable and couldn't get it up if he tried.

His phone vibrates again.

_Have you eat dinner yet? I’m order Chinese._

Bzzzz.

_Is that corner place you like._

Bzzzz.

_Sweet and sour pork. Think I’m hand feed you, then kiss mess off your lips._

Kent can't do this right now. He texts back.

**Sorry, stuff came up. Can’t make it. I’ll make it up to you.**

The response is immediate.

_That’s okay. Life happens._

Bzzz.

_I’m touch myself and think about you. Think about next time I see you._

Bzzz.

_You think about me too, okay?_

Kent wants to throw the phone across the room.

**Sure.**

Alexei doesn't reply. Kent takes that to mean the conversation is over and drops the phone on the couch. His stomach growls. He takes another swallow of beer.

His phone buzzes again, but it's not a text. It's a call.

"God _fucking_ dammit." His finger hovers over the "Answer" button for several seconds before stabbing it.

"Yeah?"

"Kent, it's Alexei. You are... is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine." He makes himself smile so it'll come through in his voice. "I've just got some work stuff that followed me home." It's happened before. Alexei will buy it. "I haven't done my laundry in a while, either, and I'm running out of clothes to wear to the office. It's just a lot of stuff that can't be put off, you know?" He tries to laugh. "Sorry, babe."

"If you are sure." Alexei's tone is warm. He's buying the ruse. Thank God. "I'm see you some other time, yes?"

"Definitely."

"Okay. Have good night, Kent."

"You, too."

They hang up. Kent's apartment goes back to being lonely and too bright. He finishes the beer in his hand and goes to get another. He's going to drink until he can cry.  
—

The next day at work, Kent's boss greets him warmly. Kent fakes civility right back and ducks into his cubicle.

He finds a folded note on his desk. He recognizes the stationary from the cubicle next to his.

HOPE YOU'RE OKAY. IF YOU WANT TO FILE A LAWSUIT FOR DISCRIMINATION, LET ME KNOW, I’VE GOT A FRIEND IN LEGAL.

Kent looks over at the woman next door. She's focused on her computer, but when Kent says, "Hey," she looks up.

"I'm okay. But I'll, uh, keep that in mind," he says. "Thanks."

She nods somberly and goes back to her work.

Kent keeps his head down all day. He gets a lot done.  
—

Alexei invites him over again two days later. Then again the next week. Kent begs off both times; apologizes profusely.

 _Is okay, Kent,_ Alexei says via text, several times. _Life get busy. I’m understand. Take care of yourself._

**I will.**

Kent eats takeout and drinks and sleeps badly. He feels like shit and he knows he looks it.

Mariella meets him for their monthly brunch that Sunday and comments on it straight off.

"Kent, what's wrong?" 

Kent shakes his head and scans the menu. "Why does nobody ever offer decent pancakes on their brunch menu? It's supposed to be breakfast _and_ lunch food."

Mariella doesn't let him deflect. "Kent, I'm serious."

"I'm fine, Elle. It's been a busy week at work and I had a late night out. I'm just tired."

"Bullshit," Mariella says gently. "You look like you did when your cat died."

Kent sighs. "Can we order, at least, before you pry into my business?"

Mariella concedes. They order, then sip their coffees and chat about nothing while they wait for their food. It's nice. Kent had been apprehensive about coming, but the more they talk, the more that slips away. Mariella is the only family he has locally, and most of his friends live in other states. He hasn't had a face-to-face conversation with Zimms in half a year, and he hasn't seen Swoops or Jeff since last Christmas. He has friends, but the people he's been friends with the longest and who know him best all live so far away. He loves these monthly get-togethers with Mariella. He's glad he didn't cancel.

He is, however, less glad to be there when Mariella swallows a bit of chicken Parmesan and says, "So? Can we talk?"

Kent... doesn't want to lie. "I'm going through some shit," he admits. "It's nothing major, just stressful. I'm okay, I promise. I just gotta get through it."

Mariella nods. Her lips are pursed, thoughtful, and Kent knows that look. He almost expects it when she asks slowly, "Is it something to do with Mr. Mashkov?"

Kent groans. "Elle—"

"Because if it is," she continues, "you can break it off. I've known him longer than you have, and he's a good guy. He won't be an ass if you tell him it's over. And you won't be jeopardizing my job or putting me in a tough position, if that's what you're thinking."

"No. No, that's not—Alexei's great." His tone makes it sound like the biggest lie he's ever told in his life. God, he even sounds despondent to himself. "Seriously, every time I see him, it's the highlight of my day."

"Then what?"

Kent puts down his fork. He's not hungry anymore. "If I tell you, you _cannot_ tell him."

It's a relief when she doesn't object, doesn't question; just nods. "I promise."

So he tells her.

She listens.

At the end of it, he repeats, "And you can’t tell him, okay? Even if he asks."

"Why would he ask?"

"Because I've been dodging him for two weeks, and he's not an idiot."

"No, he's not." She leans forward on the table. "You know, before you guys started hooking up, he asked me if I was okay with it."

"Oh god, seriously?"

"Seriously. He's my boss. He wanted to make sure it wouldn't be awkward for me, and that I knew my job wouldn't be in danger if you two had a falling out." She pins him with her dark eyes. "He's a good guy."

"You keep saying that like you think I don't know," Kent grumbles.

"Well, I'm just making sure. And I'm sorry about what happened, at your job. About the mistake, and about your boss being a homophobic dick bag. If you get terminated unlawfully or something and need legal help, just let me know. Not all my lawyer friends are tied up at Sochi Sports."

Kent smiles tiredly. "You know you're the second person who's offered that? Thank you. I really, really hope I don't need that kind of help, but thank you."

"Of course. That's what family is for."  
—

The next time Alexei texts an invite, Kent accepts.

When Alexei opens his front door, he's wearing the worst attempt at a fake frown Kent has ever seen.

"Sorry," Alexei says. "Do I know you? You look like Kent Parson, is friend of mine."

"You're not funny," Kent replies, also trying for deadpan, but then Alexei's frown cracks and becomes a huge grin, and Kent can't help but follow.

Alexei sweeps Kent into his arms and kicks the door shut behind him. Kent wraps his arms around Alexei's sublime shoulders and gets kissed within an inch of his life.

"I'm miss you," Alexei murmurs when they come up for air. Somehow they've made it to the couch. Alexei sinks down onto it and tugs Kent with him. Kent goes without protest. He ends up with his legs across Alexei's lap and his back to the armrest. Alexei has one arm around Kent and the other on his thigh. Alexei nuzzles Kent's hair; breathes him in. "I'm miss smell and weight of you in my arms."

Kent's throat is tight. "Sorry. Work shit."

"Mm, I hate your work. You should quit, live here. I'm have you all the time."

Alexei is one hundred percent joking, but Kent fucking aches for that. Not the part where he quits working and lets Alexei support him, but the part where he lives here. He's happiest, when he's here. 

"If I live here, do I have to cook? You don't want that, babe, trust me."

Alexei's head comes up. "You can't cook?"

"I can cook. I just can't cook _well_."

"Ah. Well, maybe I'm feed you at beginning. Then you learn." Alexei's smile pulls up on one side. "You wear apron, yes? Cute apron. And no pants."

"I don't think that would be sanitary," Kent says, but he can picture it, cooking in Alexei's state-of-the-art kitchen, wearing an apron and nothing else. Alexei coming up behind him. Alexei crowding him against the counter, hard in his pants and rubbing his dick into Kent's ass, his hands pinning Kent's while he bites and sucks on Kent's neck, marking him up so black and blue it's indecent...

The hand on Kent's thigh moves up to palm his dick. "You like my idea," Alexei purrs.

"When's your birthday?" Kent asks, voice going breathy as Alexei starts stroking him. "I think I know what I'm getting you."

"Is too late, you miss it this year." Alexei ducks his head to kiss Kent's jaw and down to his neck.

"Hanukkah, then. Or Christmas, I guess."

"Both is too far away."

"Then—shit, what other gift-giving holidays are there?"

Alexei doesn't answer. He's busy working Kent's fly open with one hand and trailing kisses over any bit of exposed skin. Kent lets out a breath and submits to it.

Until a sudden brush of teeth has him going stiff. He makes himself relax. But then Alexei starts to suck a bruise on him, just above Kent's collar where it will _definitely_ get noticed at work, and the bottom drops out of his stomach.

His hands fly to Alexei's shoulders, squeezing in alarm. "Don't."

Alexei stills. He lifts his head.

"I mean, it's fine," Kent says. "Just not there. Where people can see it."

There's a very pointed question in Alexei's eyes.

"It’s unprofessional." His heart almost beats out of his chest as Alexei continues to stare.

At last, Alexei huffs and says, "I guess I'm not disagree with that. Okay, not on the neck. What about here?" He touches Kent's thigh. "Is okay here?"

"Anywhere below the shirt collar."

A nod. "Okay. Take off your pants, please?"

Kent obeys. Alexei scoots down the couch so Kent's not sitting on him anymore. He picks up one leg and bends it at the knee, and brings his mouth to Kent's inner thigh. Immediately, Kent feels suction. And teeth.

"Christ, Alexei."

A chuckle. "Nobody see, but you know is there. You think about me all day." He goes back to sucking on Kent's skin.

Kent covers his eyes with both arms and just _feels_ it.

What happens is that Alexei doesn't stop at one bruise, or two, or three. There are five on Kent's left leg when Alexei puts it down, and then he turns and picks up the right. He bites a pink spot onto Kent's calf, nibbles Kent's knee, and then leaves a trail of hot, throbbing hickeys all up Kent's inner thigh.

By the end of it, Kent is painfully hard and panting for breath, his arms still tight over his eyes. But it's when Alexei kisses his way through his handiwork and murmurs, "Mine," at each mark that Kent involuntarily lets loose a sob.

He feels, rather than sees, Alexei jerking up to look at him.

"Kent? I'm sorry, did I hurt—?"

"No, god no, I'm fine."

"You not sound fine."

Any words to the contrary from Kent would be a blatant lie.  "I'm just tired."

"Kent. Look at me?"

More than anything, Kent doesn't want to. He drops his arms. Alexei takes one look at him and nods decisively. "We need drink, I think." He leans in to kiss Kent's forehead, and then gets up off the couch, heading for the bar.

He comes back with scotch in two crystal tumblers. One, he hands to Kent, and the other he holds by the rim as he re-situates himself on the couch, with his feet on the floor and Kent's bare legs over his lap.

Kent gulps some scotch. It tastes like leather and smoke, it's _so_ good. Everything Alexei owns is so good.

Alexei strokes Kent's hairy, marked up leg. "Is long week?"

"Yeah."

Alexei hums and sips his scotch. "Because of work?"

Kent takes too much time before saying, "Yeah."

"Have big project, or many small thing? Big project, I'm always handle okay, but many small thing pile up and I become stress. Drive my team crazy." Alexei's tone is casual, like he fully intends to sit on this couch and listen to Kent bitch about work, just so Kent can get it out of his system.

It makes Kent want to talk. His week has been of the "from hell" variety and he's _so tired_ of lying to Alexei about why.

"I fucked up," he says. "At work. Big time."

Alexei nods and waits quietly, so Kent goes on.

"I work in the financial department, accounts receivable, and a lot of my job is logging payments and invoices from clients. It's not dull, because I like accounting, but it gets... repetitive."

"I'm work in sales, before," Alexei says. "Cold calls. I like people, but script is same, every day."

Kent processes that. It's weird to think about Alexei as an office drone, just another guy who shows up to work every morning, does his job, and leaves. The couch they're sitting on is leather, so soft and supple it feels like skin. Alexei's wardrobe is Boss and Armani. His toothpaste is specifically formulated for him by his dentist. But the funny thing is, Kent really can picture Alexei in a ready-to-wear suit and polyester tie. The opulence fits him, but so would a tiny apartment and Bud Light beer.

"I was never in sales," Kent says. "I'm actually not great with people, not when I have to sell them something. I like numbers. Usually I can do invoices in my sleep, but a couple weeks ago..." He runs his hands through his hair. "I fucked up. Put a decimal one digit left of where it should have been."

"Oof."

"Yeah. Huge-ass mistake. It was a twenty thousand dollar job and I charged them two thousand. That's what I quoted them. On the final invoice."

"So your company loss is eighteen thousand."

Just hearing that number out loud again makes Kent wince. "Yeah. I got an invite up to the department head's office." He swallows another mouthful of scotch. He really, really wants to not be sober.

Alexei slides an arm around him and combs his fingers through Kent's hair. Carefully, he asks, "Did you lose job?"

Kent shakes his head. “No.” Then, out of pure morbid curiosity, he asks, "If it was you, and someone at your company fucked up like that, would you fire them?"

Alexei licks his lips. He's still stroking Kent's hair. "Depend on employee," Alexei says. "I prefer having reliable person who is make big mistake once, than unreliable person who is make small mistakes often. I think you are first type."

Kent swallows. "Word around my office is that wearing another man’s hickeys to work puts me in the second category."

Alexei's hand stills, and his expression goes stony. Kent's reminded of dark clouds before a hurricane. He brings a hand up, smoothing his fingers over the deep wrinkles in Alexei's furrowed brow.

"If looks could kill, babe."

Alexei sucks in a breath and lets it out. "They say this to you?"

"It wasn't spelled out. Just suggested that my personal life was distracting me. Which, ironically, was true? But not because of you. I’d just found out that day that my best friend got engaged. I was so busy texting him that I forgot to do my job." He sighs, frowning at his bare, hickey'ed up legs.

Alexei's arm tightens around him, tugging him close until he's resting his head on a warm, cotton-clad shoulder. It smells like expensive cologne and bargain brand laundry detergent.

"You are human," Alexei murmurs. He kisses Kent’s hair. "You make expensive mistake, but company will be okay. Does not mean you are bad at job. Does not mean you are bad person. Company should not say you are bad employee because you have jealous lover who leave hickeys."

Kent buries his face in clean cotton. He's needed to hear that, exactly that, all week. “Thank you.” Distantly, he registers that his dick is soft, and he doesn’t feel much like getting it back up again. Sitting around with his pants off doesn’t feel sexy anymore, either. “Sorry for killing the mood.”

Alexei's reply starts in soothing Russian and switches mid-sentence to English. "—if that is what you need."

Kent doesn’t need a translation. He gets the idea.

Later—much later—Alexei heats up some leftovers in the microwave. They sit on the couch and watch crappy reality TV reruns on Alexei’s enormous flatscreen TV, with a blanket pulled over them and Kent’s legs still over Alexei’s lap. Kent drinks two glasses of scotch and falls asleep on Alexei’s chest. He only stirs once: when Alexei nudges him upright and guides him down the hall to the bed. Once Kent is tucked in, Alexei strips down to his briefs and crawls in after him. Alexei is a cuddler and he wraps his entire body around Kent. It’s hot and slightly uncomfortable, and comes without the usual salty smell of sex and sweat. Kent puts his nose to Alexei’s neck and drinks up the lingering whiff of Alexei’s cologne. It’s spicy, soft, and sweet.

Lips touch Kent’s hair. “I’m glad you come today,” is the last thing Kent hears before he drifts off into deep sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [ tumblr](http://punmasterkentparson.tumblr.com/).


End file.
